Adoption

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I was told at a very young age that I had been adopted when I was two weeks old. My search for my birth mother began in my mind when I was a child growing up. It began in actuality on June 7, 1974.

I read an article in a magazine titled “ I Found My Mother”, and it was the trigger that said, “Do it now. You are 38 years old. Almost 40. If you don’t do it now, your mother may be dead before you search.”

I wrote my adoptive parents and asked them for all the documents and information they had. I had never had the nerve to ask them before. I didn’t want to hurt them. I just knew it was time and I had to do it. I just asked for Xerox copies, not for the originals. They sent me a copy of “Agreement to Adopt” and two letters my birth mother had written them in 1936. I was born Dorothy Jean in Texas at the” Rest Cottage.” Two weeks later I became (with a new birth certificate) Naomi Ruth and lived in Oklahoma. I was also sent my original birth certificate. I sent it back to them and proceeded to get a copy of my own by writing to the Texas Bureau of Vital Statistics in Austin. This birth certificate did not show any information for my father. It only had my mother’s name, age, birthplace and occupation. Her age was stated wrong. It said she was 25 years old, and later I found that she had been 29 years old when I was born.

My parents also gave me two photos of my birth mother, and one with my half sister (born 3 years after my birth), when I was in college. At that time they had told me my birth mother’s name and where they thought she might be living.

I began a two month intensive search for my birth mother. I know many people search for years. I was very fortunate, and also very, very obsessed. I spoke to my birth mother, Faye, on the phone just two months later. I made many phone calls and wrote many letters. I wrote the Texas Dept. of Human Resources in Austin for all my medical records from the files of the “Rest Cottage”(which was now closed).

I received the admission form for Faye, which stated the day she was admitted (May 13) and all her medical information. It stated time and length of all stages of labor, and said I was born on Aug 10 at 4:50 p.m. It was so wonderful receiving all this information about my mother. I cannot explain the emotion I felt when I first read this report on my mother. It was the first personal information I had ever seen on her. I began feeling she was real, at last.

I had no knowledge about how to search. I just did what felt right and logical to me. I knew I would never hurt or embarrass her. I would always respect her privacy. I also knew without a doubt I had the right to know who I was.

I decided I might run into problems searching for my mother, so I approached my search looking for my half-sister, Itea. Faye had married one year after I was born and moved to Michigan and had another daughter. I also wanted to find my sister. I wrote to Michigan Vital Statistics Bureau in Lansing and asked for my sister’s birth certificate and I received it. Next I asked for her marriage license and also received that. I then wrote the Dr. who delivered Itea, and received a wonderful letter from his widow. She made phone calls to get information for me before she wrote me. She sent me Itea’s then current address in New York. She obtained this information from a high school reunion list.

I was getting lots of information on Itea, but I knew I had to find my mother first. I wanted to have her permission to contact Itea, or I hoped she would tell Itea about me. I also wrote to the County Courthouse where they lived in Michigan and to the City Library for city directory information. I received a listing (handwritten) of every address where my mother had lived and also a nice letter from the library stating my mother had worked as a bookkeeper for Kresge’s. The librarian also said that she “took a shot in the dark” and called the Methodist Church my mother had attended and sent me my mother’s current address in Florida! Everyone I wrote was so helpful and sent me personal letters, even if they could not help me.

It was now August 7, 1974, and two months exactly from the date I began searching, I talked to my birth mother on the phone. I spoke to her three days before my 39th birthday. Even after it finally happened, I could hardly believe it was true! We talked 30 minutes, and she did say she was glad that I had found her. She was reserved and “cool and collected”. My heart was beating fast and I had butterflies in my stomach. I told her that finding her was my best birthday present. She did not cry (or scream), and then I wondered if she was like me at all, and felt she wasn’t. She was nice to me and said all the right things but she was more calm than I could ever be. I asked her if Itea knew about me, and she said she did not. She did tell me that Itea was living in Pennsylvania and that she had two sons, ages 9 and 14.

I had waited all those years to search and never dreamed I could find my mother in just two months. I mailed her a note before I called her, so it would not be such a shock to her. She told me she had always wondered about me, and was happy to know I was all right. The following Mother’s Day I sent her a dozen red roses with a card saying it was for all the Mothers days I had missed. I sent her a birthday card every year from 1975-1989. She only sent me one birthday card but it was a very important one. She sent me a birthday card in August 1977 with these words, “ Dear Ruth, Thanks for all the beautiful cards. Hope you have a copy of July 1977 Readers Digest. If not, get one and read the story on (certain page) about your father.” I had asked her often in those three years after finding her who my father was, and she never answered my question. Once I had this information of who my father was, I had no trouble researching his family history and genealogy. I also sent and received his birth certificate and death certificate. He had died in 1971. This may be hard to understand. I never once wondered who my father was until after I found my birth mother.

I never cared who my birth parents were, I did not care what they looked like, I did not care what they had done for a living. I just wanted to know who I was.

To my surprise, my father had been very well known and most people still recognize his name today. This made it very easy for me to find information about him.

I would have liked to have met my mother and I never did. She died at age 83, in 1989. I would like to know how my mother and father met. I do know he was married to someone else at the time I was conceived. I asked her if he ever knew I had existed, and she said he was never told about me.

I was fortunate to locate a cousin of my birth mother’s in Oklahoma, who I visited twice. She gave me the family genealogy back to the 1700’s, as well as photos of my birth mother’s family. I became very close to her and really loved this cousin, Mabel.

Having found who my birth parents were, I became more at peace with myself. It was wonderful to at last know who I was and where I had come from. If you have always known who your parents are, you probably don’t understand. If you haven’t, I don’t need to explain. Until you know who you are something is missing. There are no missing pieces now. My puzzle is complete.

In one of the letters I now have that were written by my birth mother in 1936, she wrote “ Don’t you worry about me trying to take the baby (Ruth) from you. I thought it all over before letting her go. I had to forget my feelings and think about her future, though I hope to see her sometime. Don’t you worry about me letting her know my identity. It will be best for her not to ever know. I know you are and always will be just as good to her as I would have, and since you took her so young, I’m sure you could not have loved your own any more than you do her.”

When my adoptive parents went to Texas to adopt me, Faye dressed me and gave me to the nurse to take to my new parents. She was allowed to meet them, which is highly unusual. She wanted to see the people and meet the people whose home I was going to be raised in. Through someone who worked there, she was given my adoptive parents address, and wrote them letters for ten years. Because of their fears, they sent her letters back to her after that, and then destroyed all the letters she wrote except the two I now have. I am so grateful for those two letters, and they have let me know her feelings at the time she gave me up. I remember every year when I was a small child, at Christmas we received a Christmas card from someone named “Faye”. My parents put all the Christmas cards on the piano and I spent hours looking at all of them. I knew every person we got a card from except this one card. When I asked them who she was, they always just answered that she was someone they once knew.

Today I know who I am
I no longer feel unloved
I am a richly blessed child of the Universe.

God has a purpose,
there are no accidents.

Everything that has happened to me
Is exactly what was supposed to happen.

My birth parents
and my “soul” parents,
Have made me who I am.

MEMORIES OF A “CHOSEN CHILD”

As a child, I used to pray
I could know who I was someday.
Tell me from where I came?
Who gave me away?
The world said I had no right to know
Dry my tears, stop the flow.
I was a chosen child, my parents said
and because of that more dearly loved.
I only felt unwanted, rejected
That no one cared.
For a new chosen sister was in my home
I was no longer the princess, and all alone.

These words bring tears to my eyes every time I read them. How could I ever have been angry with her for giving me up? She did do what she thought was best for me. I will never know the pain she suffered from doing so. I know she felt guilty all her life for giving me away. That had to be hard to live with.

In 1983 I wrote Itea a letter, which she did not answer for a year. I had given up hearing from her, then a thick letter arrived from her. She came to visit me in 1985. She was an “only child” until she discovered she had me for a sister. I visited her in Pennsylvania twice and am going to see her again this year (1999). She has visited me three times also. I feel I have a good relationship with her. I am glad she is part of my life.

Every family tree grows with different branches. I certainly have a lot of branches on mine, and I am thankful for all of them.

Ruth and Itea